Home
by clair beaubien
Summary: Ezra refers to Vin's boarding house room as his "home." Vin never saw it that way, until he invites Chris in for some pie & coffee.


"Hey Chris - I got those maps of the southern pass back at my room whenever you want to come over and have a look." Vin called over to Chris from where he stood at the bar. Chris sat at a nearby table with Ezra. "You bring over some coffee and I might be persuaded to share some of that raspberry pie Nettie brought me yesterday."

"Well this is a momentous occasion." Ezra opined. "Mr. Larabee I do believe that you are the first person to be invited into the Tanner domicile."

"What are you talking about Ezra?" Chris asked. "I been in Vin's room lotsa times."

"Y'all have." Vin said. It'd been a long winter of Vin recovering from quinsy. He spent most of that time holed up in his room at the boarding house, with one or more of his friends managing to be with him at various times throughout each day.

"Yes but this is the first time you've actually invited one of our merry band to partake of a libation and comestibles. Thus I would say this is truly the first time any one of us has been invited to your home."

Vin shook his head and finished his shot of whiskey. "Anyway..." he continued to Chris. "I'm heading there now. C'mon over when you like." He paid for his liquor and left the saloon. On the boardwalk he pulled his jacket closer against the brisk wind that filled the town. Not quite winter anymore, it wasn't quite spring yet either, and he splashed through more than one muddy puddle on his way to the boarding house.

Once inside his room, Vin shut and locked the door, then tossed his hat, coat and holster onto the bed. Night still came early so he lit the lamp and set it on the table next to the primer, pencil and copy book Mary had left with him. He'd got on pretty well with the reading and writing over the winter, so much that she gave him work he could do on his own. He didn't think he was as good as even Billy yet, but he was happy with his progress. He'd even managed to write a poem or two of his own, on his own.

He looked up to the wall where a framed copy of his so far only published poem hung on the wall. Chris'd had it framed as a Christmas present and Vin put it on the wall at the foot of his bed so he could study it whenever he couldn't sleep.

On the wall next to the bed, Vin had hung the photograph Jock Steele had taken of the Seven of them. He couldn't help smiling whenever he looked at it. The way they all stood together was exactly how Vin felt about belonging with them - shoulder to shoulder, each looking straight ahead, willing to take on all comers.

The picture over the head of the bed was one Josiah had sketched for Vin. It looked sorta like an outline of a person with their arms stretched up over their head, but they seemed to be caught in a whirlwind of movement that surrounded them and reached up to the top edge of the paper. Josiah said it was his idea of what a soul looked like searching for the right path, and Vin had to agree with him.

When Vin first saw how the boys and Mary had decorated this room, back after he'd been sick, with the quilt and rug and lace curtains, he'd been of a mind to hate it. He didn't need a chest of drawers or a rocking chair, but over the months of winter he'd not only gotten used to it, he'd actually come to like it. He'd even appreciated the further touches his friends had added, the small round table and chairs, the washstand, and coat tree in the corner. Nettie even found him a banty pie safe so she could keep him provisioned.

He never got over how an untaught, half wild, solitary bounty hunter could have so many friends - so much family. Not that he didn't still like his time outdoors, and not that these walls didn't feel close every once in a time. But maybe Ezra was right, maybe this was home.

Home.

The word made him think of his Ma and the home she'd made for him. It probably wasn't much bigger than this whole room put together but it'd always felt warm and secure to him. Sorta like the feeling he got being here now.

That made Vin look around again. The granny afghan was puddled in the seat of the rocking chair, so he shook it out and folded it over the back of the chair. And his coat tree was looking kinda bare with all his gear dumped on the bed, so he hung his hat and coat on the brass hooks, and slung his holster over the bedstead where it'd be in easy reach.

His table was messy too, with his papers and reading books, so he straightened those together and set them out of the way on top of the chest of drawers. The quilt was kinda rumpled, and one of the pillows was even on the floor so he remade the bed. Then he straightened the wash rag hanging off the side of the wash stand, and turned the bar of soap over to hide the marks where he dug his fingernails in to clean them.

There, that was better. More like how his Ma would probably want him to keep his room.

His home.

+*+*+*+*+

When Chris knocked on Vin's door, he was surprised to hear "It's open." Vin always kept his door locked. Coffee pot in one hand, Chris opened the door to find Vin sitting in the rocking chair with a thin book open in his lap. The table had been set with plates and pie and cups and the room looked neater than it usually did. Vin'd even put his muddy boots on an old newspaper just inside the door.

"Have a chair." Vin offered. He closed the book and leaned forward to set it on the table. He seemed tired. Chris shut the door and set the coffee pot on the table.

"Whatcha reading?" He asked as he took the closest chair. Vin still got tired easier than he liked to admit. Maybe they'd skip the maps for tonight.

"Not reading. Not really. Just seeing what words I can pick out. There's not many, but more than I reckoned."

"How come your door's unlocked?"

"Oh, I didn't want to have to get up again and unlock it." Vin rubbed a hand across his face. He really was tired.

"Why don't we skip this for tonight Vin? You need to get some sleep."

"No, stay for some pie at least. I'll sleep better with pie in me."

"Sounds good." Chris agreed. He poured the coffee and served up the pie. Vin took his plate and fork, but after one bite he rested his head back and closed his eyes.

"You all right?" Chris had to ask. Maybe it was more than being tired.

"Home." Vin whispered without opening his eyes.

"What?" Chris was pretty sure he'd heard him right. Maybe what Ezra said was bothering him.

"Home." He looked at Chris. "All my life mostly I been kicking around the desert, the mountains. I've had campfires and lean-to's. Sometimes I've had nothing at all. In twenty years I never had a home. This really is the first time I've ever invited somebody to my home. And you know what? I'm glad it's you."

Chris was touched and humbled by Vin's words. "I'm glad it's me too."

"Do one thing for me?" Vin asked.

"Anything."

"Get your muddy boots off my rug?"

the end.


End file.
